Chapter 3
Into the maze
The stairwell twisted like a rusted screw into the earth.
Every step groaned beneath his weight. The iron railing was slick with grime, the air thick with oil and something sour—blood? rot?
He didn't ask. He just kept walking.
Down.
Down.
Down.
The sterile light from the previous room vanished behind him, swallowed by shadow. Ahead, only darkness.
Then—
BZZZT.
Fluorescent strips flared to life overhead. Dim. Flickering. Uneven.
He stepped off the final stair and into something vast.
Steel walls stretched out in every direction, towering high above. Metal corridors, twisting and branching like arteries in some dying beast. The maze was alive. Humming. Breathing.
A loudspeaker clicked on. That same synthetic voice rang out. Flat. Robotic. Watching.
"Welcome to Maze Cycle #002. Four contestants. One centre."
"The first to reach the centre will be granted a premium reward."
"Others may proceed... but no promises."
"Puzzles, traps, threats, and fellow contestants await."
"You are free to form alliances."
"...Or eliminate the competition."
"Begin."
BING.
No countdown. No warning. Just silence.
He exhaled, slowly.
So that's how it is...
No rules. No honour.
Just a race with knives hidden in every corner.
He moved forward, muscles tense.
The corridor split almost immediately. Left or right.
No map. No hints. Just guesswork and instinct.
He turned left.
The corridor narrowed.
Pipes curled overhead like the veins of some buried god. The walls sweated condensation. Every few meters, a rusty panel flickered with half-dead circuitry. He passed one with a shattered screen—jagged glass and a strange red smear.
Blood? Already?
He quickened his pace.
After about five turns, the hallway ended at a large metal door. No handle. No obvious lock.
But a panel blinked beside it: a keypad. Numbers only.
Nine digits, and a faint note etched above it:
"Sum the path of broken light."
...What?
He stepped back, scanning the corridor behind him. A pipe above flickered—once, then again. He narrowed his eyes.
That one... skips every third second.
He ran back and traced the light panels. Seven in total. Three were broken. One blinked in a loop: 3 blinks, pause. Another: 1 long blink. The third? Two quick ones.
3, 1, 2... Sum? That would be...
He typed: 6.
The keypad buzzed. Then—CHKSHHH—
The door slid open.
He didn't smile.
The puzzle hadn't been hard.
But it was a test.
Not of knowledge.
Of pressure.
The room beyond was darker. Lower. The air buzzed.
He stepped inside—
CRACK!
The floor behind him shot upward.
A wall slammed down.
Trap—!?
He spun, just in time to see the corridor seal shut.
A speaker above hissed.
"Test acknowledged. Route sealed."
He turned back.
Another path forward.
The maze didn't reward backtracking.
Every choice cut away the past.
Ten more minutes of turns. Crawling through a pipe shaft. Nearly slipping into a pit of rusted gears. Twice he dodged pressure plates that hissed underfoot.
No sign of the others.
Yet.
Then—
A sound.
Not mechanical.
Footsteps.
He froze.
Soft. Light. Not running.
Someone else is here.
He ducked behind a crate half-melted into the wall. Waited.
Shadows moved at the next junction.
A figure. Human. Slender. Carefully walking, one hand on the wall, the other holding—
Something metal.
A blade?
His heart pounded.
The figure paused.
Looked his way.
Their eyes met.
For a second, nobody moved.
Then he stepped out of the shadows slowly. Hands visible.
"…Not here to fight," he said.
The figure hesitated.
Then lowered the weapon slightly.
"…Name?"
He paused.
Then nodded once.
"…Mason."
The girl studied him carefully.
Brown skin, close-cropped hair, a thin scar running from cheekbone to ear. Her eyes—sharp. Calculating. A half-bent steel pipe rested across her shoulder like a club.
"…Naya," she said at last.
Not a smile. But not a threat, either.
Mason lowered his arms, but kept his posture cautious. "You seen anyone else?"
She shook her head. "Just… heard things. Voices. Screams. One sounded close. Then gone."
A beat of silence.
The maze hummed softly around them. Pipes hissed in the distance. Somewhere deeper in, something heavy moved—metal on metal.
Naya tensed.
Mason didn't blame her.
He took a breath. "We should move. Center's the goal, right? No time to play nice."
"Agreed."
They walked together—cautiously. Not as allies, not yet. Just two bodies avoiding isolation.
The corridors narrowed again. Pipes now ran along the floor as well as the ceiling. The metal beneath their feet felt warped, sloping slightly left, as if something beneath it had shifted long ago and never been fixed.
Mason kept his eyes sharp.
Perception: 10.
Still not enough to relax.
The system hadn't spoken since the maze began. No prompts. No guidance. That silence was more unnerving than the voice had been.
He turned to Naya.
"How'd you get here?"
She shrugged. "Died. Woke up in a box."
"Same."
"First challenge?"
"Spider-bot."
"Lucky. Mine was... flesh."
She didn't elaborate.
Mason didn't ask.
Another intersection.
This one marked with rust-coloured arrows and a faint, flickering light embedded in the wall. It pointed forward—barely working.
"Trap," Naya muttered. "Too obvious."
"I'll check it."
Mason stepped forward, crouched low. Carefully inspected the panel.
There. Pressure wire. Subtle, but detectable—barely visible beneath a floor seam. One misstep, and—
Click. Boom. Gone.
He gestured back. "We go around."
They took the side path, ducking beneath exposed rebar. The walls were tight here—claustrophobic. Like the maze was clenching its metal teeth around them.
After two more turns, they reached a room wider than any before.
It looked like a machine graveyard.
Cables hung like vines. Disassembled panels lined the floor. Broken screens displayed fragments of system text in languages neither of them recognized.
And in the centre—
A statue?
No.
A machine. Humanoid in shape, curled inward like it had been deactivated mid-collapse.
"Another construct?" Mason whispered.
"Sleeping," Naya guessed. "For now."
They backed away. Quiet. Careful.
Whatever that thing was, they didn't want to wake it.
Not without more than a pipe and guts.
The next corridor angled downward.
Mason could feel it in his calves. The slope was subtle, but the air grew heavier the deeper they went. Damper. Warmer. Like the maze had lungs—and they were walking into its breath.
They passed a grate hissing faint steam. Somewhere above, a faint klaxon rang out. Distant. Muffled.
They weren't alone in here.
Someone had triggered something.
Naya picked up her pace, then paused. "What stat did you boost?" she asked, voice low.
Mason blinked. "Huh?"
"Level up. We all got one, right?"
He hesitated.
A question that simple shouldn't have felt like a trap. But it did.
"…Agility and Strength," he said at last. "Needed to move. And hit."
"Smart." A pause. "I put both in Endurance."
Interesting.
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. "Did you take a reward?"
He nodded slowly. "Yeah."
Another beat.
"…Gambling," he said.
That made her stop in her tracks. "Seriously?"
He half-smiled. "Don't ask why."
"I wasn't going to. Idiot move."
"Thanks."
They walked on in silence for a while.
"You?"
She didn't answer right away.
Then: "F-Tier ability. Random."
"And?"
"…Nullskin."
He raised a brow.
She sighed. "Temporarily ignores one incoming attack. Once per cycle. Cooldown unknown."
Mason whistled. "That's good."
"I thought so."
She didn't sound proud. Just factual. Like someone revealing a loaded gun without pointing it.
Mason understood.
No one wanted to give away their trump card.
But trust, even half-formed, had to start somewhere.
At the next turn, the floor opened into a circular room.
Five corridors fed into it like spokes of a wheel. At the centre: a pillar of light. Dim. Faintly blue. A holographic sign floated above it:
Zone Sync: 3 of 4 active.
"Three of us made it this far," Mason muttered.
Naya looked around.
The fourth hadn't arrived yet.
Or had arrived first and left.
They didn't linger.
Mason checked the floor. No traps.
They crossed the hub in silence and took the northeast path.
The hallway narrowed again.
The lights above began to sputter. The hum of machinery intensified.
Then the floor shuddered beneath them.
Something large moved nearby.
Mason raised a hand—halted.
Naya froze beside him.
A new sound emerged.
Scraping metal. Not mechanical. Organic.
...More than one?
He glanced at her. She nodded once, tightening her grip on her pipe.
They pressed forward, slower now.
Whatever waited ahead—they were getting close.
The maze pulsed around them.
Faint vibrations rippled through the walls—mechanical, rhythmic. Somewhere close, machinery stirred. Not the idle hum of the structure... something moving.
Hunting.
Mason and Naya ducked into a side corridor, crouching low behind a bank of rusted ductwork. The hallway beyond twisted sharply, ending in what looked like a collapsed gate. Piles of bent steel lay scattered, like something had torn through.
They stayed silent for a moment.
Then Naya leaned close, voice barely above a whisper.
"…So?"
He blinked. "So what?"
"The gambling reward."
She didn't look at him. Her eyes were fixed ahead, scanning the shadows. "What did you get?"
He hesitated.
Longer than he should have.
"…A skill," he said finally. "F-rank."
Naya raised an eyebrow. "Useful?"
He considered lying.
But something about the way she'd shared Nullskin—not bragging, not threatening, just honest—made it hard.
"…Bloodspark," he said. "Triggers when I take damage. Boosts power and speed for a few seconds."
She turned to look at him directly this time.
"Seriously?"
"Yeah."
"Sounds strong."
"It is." He paused. "But it's dumb. Encourages recklessness."
A smirk twitched at the edge of her mouth. "Figures. The idiot who chose gambling gets a masochist buff."
"Hey."
"I didn't say it was bad. Just suicidal."
He almost smiled.
Almost.
Then—
CLANG.
Both froze.
Ahead, something massive slammed into the wall. The maze trembled.
Then came the growl.
Low. Metallic. Wet.
"…That's not a machine," Naya whispered.
"No," Mason said. "It's something worse."
The noise echoed again—closer now.
A new voice rang through the maze:
"Contestant #11 has been eliminated."
"Vital signs: ceased."
"Elimination registered."
The air went still.
Naya gripped her pipe tighter.
"…That's three," she said. "We're the last two."
Mason didn't reply.
Because far ahead—down a corridor thick with cables and broken tiles—he saw it.
A faint glow.
Round.
Soft blue, pulsing.
The center.
He turned to Naya.
She saw it too.
Neither of them moved.
Not yet.
The silence pressed in.
That glow in the distance — it wasn't bright, but it was unmistakable. The soft blue radiance pulsed like a heartbeat, illuminating the end of the corridor. The centre.
The reward.
Mason took one step forward.
Naya didn't stop him.
But she moved with him, step for step.
Neither spoke.
Only one winner.
That's what the system said.
But so far, they'd survived together. Watched each other's backs. Shared information. Walked the same path.
Now?
Every inch closer to the light made the air grow heavier.
Mason felt his fingers twitching.
His blood buzzed. Part of him wanted to run—not from fear, but to win. To claim whatever power the center promised before anyone else.
He pushed that urge down.
Halfway down the corridor, they passed a strange archway. The metal above shimmered like heat haze.
A screen blinked into existence as they crossed under it.
[Final Zone Reached]
First arrival will receive: Premium Reward Selection (Tier D–F)
All others: Standard selection (F-tier only)
They didn't stop walking.
But Naya's voice came low. Tight.
"…So. What now?"
Mason didn't answer at first.
The glow grew larger. Now he could see the chamber itself—circular, wide, ringed in thick black cables that pulsed with dim orange light.
At the centre stood a pedestal.
Above it: a suspended cube of glass, rotating slowly.
A reward capsule.
Waiting.
One winner.
He looked sideways at Naya.
She looked back.
Neither of them slowed.
One hand tightened around her pipe.
His fingers curled into fists.
Then—
A sound behind them.
Metal scraping. Soft footsteps.
They froze.
Mason turned.
Far down the corridor, just beyond the heat-shimmer archway…
A silhouette.
Tall. Thin. Silent.
Watching.
Too far to make out details.
But it wasn't just standing still.
It tilted its head.
Like it recognized them.
Or was deciding something.
The archway flickered again.
Then the figure was gone.
Vanished. No sound.
Mason's pulse spiked.
He looked at Naya.
Her face was pale.
"…That wasn't you," she whispered.
"Nope."
They both stared into the centre chamber.
And then—
They stepped through.
Together.
The chamber hissed closed behind them.
And the maze fell silent.